Proper Synchronisation
by Thalius
Summary: BT and Jack are both still trying to figure this pilot thing out.


**AN:** I just finished the Titanfall 2 campaign and the love I have for BT knows no bounds.

* * *

"We may stop if you wish to rest."

BT's voice was just barely audible above the harsh breathing inside his own helmet. It—he?—paused and turned to look back at Jack, the lone eye blinking at him expectantly. If he really wanted to be paranoid, he might even think the blinking was a little bit patronising, given that he'd fallen a good seventy metres behind, but that was probably just his frayed nerves talking.

What concerned him more was that he'd just been mulling over whether or not he should broach the subject of settling down for the night for the last five minutes, and he narrowed his eyes at the titan, even if BT couldn't see his expression. "Can you read my mind or something?"

"Negative," BT replied. "But I have access to your BiOS implant, and your cortisol and adenosine levels are high enough to indicate that you are likely exhausted. Your field kit is low on rations, and there are no known sources of caffeine nearby to block the relevant chemical receptors in your brain to offset these effects. Rest is the most efficient alternative." BT blinked again, not waiting for him to digest what the hell he'd just said, and continued with, "We can stay idle for a maximum of eighteen minutes without compromising our intended rendezvous schedule with Anderson. We are currently at an ideal spot to rest if you wish."

Jack blew out an amused breath. "Eighteen whole minutes, huh?"

"Correct," BT said. "We are eighteen minutes ahead of intended rendezv—"

"I got it," he interrupted, holding up a hand. BT went silent. "What about when I have to actually sleep?"

"You may embark and rest inside my chassis, but then I will have a direct link to your nervous system, and your tone indicated that you find this disagreeable."

"So you _can_ read my mind?"

"When we are linked, I can monitor your brain waves." It paused for a moment. "Captain Lastimosa also called it 'reading my mind'. It is necessary for proper synchronisation."

Somewhere in the periphery of his thoughts, he'd already suspected that. They'd fought the IMC together, and the neural link had felt a lot more intimate and close-knit than the VR sim ever had. Didn't mean he was comfortable with it, though.

"Okay," he said, sighing and parking his ass on the nearest patch of dirt he could find. "Let's just... sit for a few minutes."

"Affirmative." A countdown clock appeared in the right-hand corner of his HUD, starting at eighteen minutes. He dismissed the timer with an annoyed flick of his eyes; the hike had been laborious enough to put him on-edge, and watching a clock slowly tick down as he tried to relax wouldn't help to calm his nerves. BT didn't respond to his dismissal, so he focused back to the task at hand and unslung his pack from his shoulders. The muscles in his back immediately ached at the sudden release in pressure, and he was suddenly much less thrilled at the thought of getting up again and carrying around his pack for two and half more days. Maybe stopping hadn't been such a good idea.

Jack pulled off his helmet and set it down beside him. Then he dug around in his pack until he found water and a ration bar, shoving the latter into his mouth as he uncapped the former. He risked a glance at BT and saw that he—it _was_ he, Jack decided—was standing completely still, staring at him. Really intensely.

"Sit down, man," he mumbled around his shitty snack, waving a hand at the ground nearby. "You said the coast is clear."

"We are three hundred and twelve kilometres away from the nearest coastline," BT said, and the confusion in his voice was a match for Jack's own.

"What? Oh, no, I meant—no hostiles around, we're safe. Do you even need to rest?"

"As long as I have sufficient power, I will remain operational indefinitely without rest." BT moved closer to him, his massive feet kicking up clods of dirt and tufts of thick jungle grass, and he stopped at the spot Jack had indicated with a hand. "You want me to sit here?"

"Just whatever's comfortable for you," he replied around the last mouthful of his ration bar, then washed it down with warm, metallic-tasting water.

"I am experiencing no discomfort."

"Then do whatever you want," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. His skin felt grimy and sticky, and the hair on his face was beginning to itch. He'd done a decent amount of shit deployments that this wasn't a novel experience for him, but trying to keep up with a giant robot through untamed brush for the several hours with no rest was testing the limits of his training. He'd always had a great deal of respect for pilots, but he was beginning to think they were _actually_ superhuman if this was a regular day at the office for them.

"How'd you—" He began, then frowned when he saw that BT was still staring unblinkingly at him. "Uh, how'd you do these kinds of long runs with Lastimosa?"

"He slept in the cockpit when required," BT replied. There was no discernible change in the titan's tone, but his gaze flicked towards the ground. "It is more efficient than taking breaks, but he was also reluctant to do so at first. He told me it was more difficult to sleep when linked with me."

Jack nodded. "I'll slip back in once we're done here. Just wanted to stretch my legs a little." And, well, feel like he wasn't slipping into the coffin of his old CO. He hadn't even had the time to digest the man's death, and embarking in a titan that had been linked with Lastimosa for its whole life felt like he was trespassing. BT's cockpit even still smelled like the old cigarillos Lastimosa loved so much. As exhausted as he was trailing behind BT, it was the least he could do to give the titan some time to adjust to their new arrangement. God knew Jack needed it.

BT flexed his massive hands, bringing him out of his thoughts. "I can stimulate the nerves in your legs at a continuous, low frequency that will not impeded performance in order to prevent muscle cramping," the titan offered. "Extended hours of sedentary activity in the cockpit presents a danger to pilots, and this will decrease your risk for embolisms."

A surprised laugh escaped him, and he swore the titan cocked its eye in confusion. He shook his head and grinned at him tiredly. "We barely know each other, BT. You're moving a little fast for me."

"I do not understand."

He waved his hand in dismissal. "Just a dating joke."

"We were discussing neither calendars nor radioactive isotopes."

"Ah, nevermind." This was going to take a while to get used to, but he realised with a small thrill that he _was_ going to get used to it. It might feel like he was invading the personal space of a dead man, and he only knew an eighth of a fuck of what he was doing, but he was still a piloting a titan. "How much time we got?"

The clock reappeared on his HUD in response, reading out _11:27._ "We can head out now," Jack said, holding back a sigh. "If I sit here any longer I won't want to get up."

"I can carry you, if that is preferable to embarking."

Jack considered that for a moment. "So _you're_ okay with me just hopping in the cockpit?"

"You are my pilot. We synced and fought well today."

He noted that BT hadn't answered his question. "Your _new_ pilot," Jack added. "Very new. We buried Lastimosa this morning. It doesn't feel weird to you? Replacing him with someone so soon?" _Someone who has no proper pilot training or field experience?_

BT paused to consider his question. The teal blue eye blinked once, twice, then looked back at Jack. "Lastimosa's used his last minutes alive to make you my new pilot. It would disrespect his sacrifice to ignore his final wishes."

It was Jack's turn to blink. The response had been surprisingly thoughtful, and he realised that he needed to re-examine his initial, decidedly more shallow impressions of titans—or at the very least, _this_ titan. "Okay," he said, nodding. "Okay, BT. Then let's embark."

BT crouched down and opened up the hatch of his cockpit, then offered up a hand to step up. Jack got up from his patch of dirt with some difficulty and shoved his helmet back on, but didn't bother to sling his pack back over his shoulders. He put a foot down on the thick metal palm of BT's hand, then reached out and patted his arm. "It's still okay to be sad about Lastimosa, you know. You can respect his wishes and still be upset that he's gone. I sure am."

Jack tossed his pack beside the seat and crawled in. The cockpit went dark and he felt BT stand back up. The HUD casing flickered as the imaging systems booted up, and then his mind was flooded with a cool mercury as their neural link was established. BT had said he could listen in on his thoughts, and if Jack concentrated hard enough, he thought maybe that he could detect a distant sorrow from the titan.

"Noted, Pilot," BT replied, and now his voice was echoing in Jack's brain as much as in the cockpit. "I would like to continue forward to the rendezvous point now."

"To kick some IMC ass and complete the Captain's mission?"

"That is correct." They began to move— _they_ did, together, and it felt more natural than he thought it ever could—and then BT added, "Especially the former."

Jack's laughter rumbled around the cockpit, and he could swear BT was laughing with him.

* * *

 **AN:** Might write some more for this, but for now I'll keep it as a one-shot. Thanks for reading!


End file.
